Page 8 of A Marriage of Convenience with a Rake
“Good afternoon,” a cultured, low-register voice murmured distinctly in the hallway. Eleanor felt her spine straighten. The voice was low and musical, and she was surprised by the way her flesh tingled, but not with repellency. The voice sounded quite pleasant.
Remember your brother’s warning,she reminded herself crossly.
This was a dangerous man.
All the same, she couldn’t help feeling a twist of anticipation and she tiptoed to the wooden railing, peering down into the hallway. As a child, she had hidden here with her brother, so they could watch the adults in the hallway unseen. Now, the hiding place served her well as she peered out through a small gap in the wood. She felt her stomach twist.
The view from the banister was not perfect, but she could see somebody tall. He was talking to Papa, his back to her, and she could only see his shoulders, clad in a blue jacket, and his hair, which was somewhere between cocoa-brown and black. Her heart thudded. From this angle, seeing nothing of him at all beside his hair and shoulders, he had some quality that was appealing to her.
Stop it,she told herself harshly. This man is dangerous, and not the sort of person you would wish to know. All of her brother’s stories flooded back and she tensed, stiffening in readiness to repel him as much as possible. She was going to use this opportunity to right this problem as swiftly as she could.
All the same, as she walked to the top of the stairs to greet the guest, she couldn’t help a small tingle of curiosity and interest to find out what the man with the glossy dark hair was like in truth.
Chapter 4
The entrance-way of the modest-looking house was surprisingly stylish and well-maintained, with marbled tiles on the floor and a sweeping staircase. The butler, who answered the door, was neatly outfitted and the arrival of two people a little younger than Papa—presumably, the parents of the girl he was intended to meet—was well-timed.
Sebastian sketched a bow as the older man introduced himself.
“Good afternoon, Lord Glenfield,” he murmured. He was a good-looking man with wise dark eyes and a head of brown hair starting to get white, shorter than Sebastian. His smile seemed genuine. “May I introduce my wife, Mrs. Harriet Montague, and my son, Jonathan Montague. My daughter is still in her chamber.” He bowed, seeming unapologetic for his daughter’s absence, which was, Sebastian thought, only proper.
“Good afternoon,” Sebastian replied, bowing first to the lady, who had thick hair too, a color somewhere between honey-blonde and brown, and green eyes. “Good afternoon,” he added to the man’s son, who was tall and slim, with his mother’s brown hair and his father’s eyes and an extremely uncomfortable posture. He was clearly deeply upset for his part in the endeavor, and that made Sebastian stiffen.
My father obliged these people through saving this man from Heaven knows what fate. Am I so awful, that people must be forced to my acquaintance?
He tensed his spine. This entire arrangement was wrong, and he would not be forced to make a pious and homely girl suffer what would, to her, be a horrible fate.
He had to speak to his father to change his mind on this.
“Shall we go up to the drawing-room?” Mrs. Montague was saying, interrupting his gloomy thoughts.
“Yes. Yes,” Sebastian murmured. He walked briskly to the stairs, trying not to go faster than his hosts. He found he was impatient.
I’m not impatient about meeting her,he told himself firmly.Just about doing this as swiftly as possible.
It wasn’t possible that he was actually excited, that something about his father’s story and this strange, proper family had grabbed his interest. Absolutely not.
He smiled to himself as they reached the top of the stairs. His heart was pounding just a little faster than normal, his hands damp. He looked sharply to his right, where a young woman stood.
“Ah! Eleanor! Come here. This is Sebastian Thornton, the Earl of Glenfield.” He turned to Sebastian. “My lord, allow me to introduce my daughter, Eleanor Montague.”
The woman stared at him. Sebastian stared at her.
With a squarish face, wide-set eyes, a thin nose and a full-lipped mouth, she was pretty. It was a strong face, a serious face, but undeniably also pretty. Her hair was the same glossy brown as her mother’s, arranged in ringlets about her face, and her eyes were likewise green. Wide, framed with long lashes, they stared up at him confusedly.
“Good afternoon,” he murmured, and bowed. He cleared his throat, finding that it was a little tight.
“Good afternoon, my lord.” The woman curtseyed and her gaze moved to the floor. He found himself feeling strange as her eyes slid from his own—a little bereft, as if the contact had appealed to him.
He turned away, annoyed at himself.
This woman has been forced into this,he thought.And besides she’s probably dull-witted and boring, anyway.
Sebastian drew in a breath. He would have to see. He’d promised his father to meet her, and that was all he’d promised.
He followed the family into the drawing room.
Sebastian glanced around briefly. It was an ordinary drawing-room, a little cozier seeming than the one at Ramsgate house, with chintz covered wingback chairs by the fireplace, a marble mantelpiece on which a few Chinese vases were displayed, and a wooden table in the other corner, six spindle-legged chairs arranged at it. There were paintings on the walls and the curtains were green velvet. It was all surprisingly tasteful and rather opulent, smaller but in other ways no less than any other home he’d been in.
